Carel: Mhmm. This half of the story isn't really why it has an M rating. When I post the second half (should be tomorrow if everything works out) then you'll all get your fix. But it's late and I just don't feel like writing anymore so you'll all have to suffer until then. X) By the way, my plot bunnies reproduce like, well, bunnies but I'm always open to ideas. I can write just about anything so don't worry about asking. =D Read and review people.
It was a well-known fact to most of the palace residents that the Marquis suffered from bouts of insomnia. The attractive young man could be found wandering around the deserted halls at any hour of the night if he was currently in the grips of sleeplessness. Such episodes were usually heralded by recent ill fortune to Athlum or a particularly emotional problem. This round was most likely due to the Conqueror marching up and down the countryside with his army in tow.
David ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily as he paced around his audience chamber with obvious anxiety. What was worse was that he had thought that he might actually get a good night's sleep tonight. He had spent a large portion of the evening sparring with Emma and the rest of the night had been devoted to letting Rush coddle him, whispering endearments into his ear and placing gentle touches on some of his nastier bruises from Emma.
Not once this evening had he thought of the Conqueror. No sooner had he changed into his night clothes and crawled under his covers had the most recent encounter with the other man come rushing back to him. With it had come all the possibilities of Athlum's safety and how he was bound to do as Celapaleis ordered even if his state was attacked. He had promptly switched back into his day attire and gone to look for something, anything, to occupy his mind with.
It wasn't that nobody hadn't tried to cure his sleeping problems it was just a general lack of success. It seemed to him that he had exhausted all avenues and possibilities and still could not banish his dark thoughts away.
And they had tried everything. Emma had used every practical suggestion in the book and, when those had all proved fruitless, had even turned to wives tales and offered him warm milk. Torgal had suggested procuring a massage and Pagus had concocted various brews and spells in an effort to aide his Lord. While the standard Sleep spell had knocked him out it had left him feeling worse than ever the following morning. Blocter had spent hours sparring with him until they had both been sure he would simply pass out once he put his head on the pillow. Not so.
Eventually they had simply given up and, lacking any other options, left their Marquis to his thoughts with hope that he would overcome it by himself.
As far as David was concerned, he just needed something better to think about. He didn't even care about the sleep at this point so long as he wasn't worrying about things that he could do nothing about. But what was there to do at such a late hour of night?
He turned the thought over in his head as he exited his audience chamber and took to roaming the halls once more. Training was always a possibility but if he didn't have another skilled partner then he would continue on thinking even as he wore his body down.
He stopped and stared intently at the ceiling as he mentally ran through a list of possible sparring partners that he could enlist. Emma was certainly out of the question; she would no doubt agree to train with him but she was looking noticeably tired lately and he hated to push her. Torgal would have done well except David had no idea where to find the elusive Sovani. He didn't actually use his assigned room for sleeping in so much as he used it for storage. When the night fell then Torgal would simply wander off to wherever it was he chose to make his bed. Pagus was a surprisingly deep sleeper and the Marquis didn't feel like battling him awake. Blocter simply wouldn't get up at all if the sun wasn't up or the city wasn't burning.
That left Rush. Heat flooded his face as he thought of their earlier trysts this evening. Gentle kisses had turned more passionate and hands had wandered into areas unknown. He had somehow moved from sitting at Rush's side and into his lap demanding more attention. The Marquis was learning exactly how difficult it was to keep hormones in check in these situations. He had finally pulled away from Rush, staggered away laughing from the hand that shot out to pull him back in and stumbled in the direction of the door. His body had fizzled with excitement all the way back to his own room.
"This is not helping." He murmured to himself in exasperation. He quickly began walking in the direction of Rush's quarters as he struggled to force down the thoughts and images that were mixing themselves in his mind.
He stopped abruptly when he reached his goal and stared hard at the door. He felt somewhat bad for waking Rush up but that wasn't his only concern. There was something about entering the others room while he was sleeping that struck the blonde as pervasive.
He should knock. But Rush was a heavy sleeper, what if he didn't wake? There was no choice in the matter; if he intended to get any peace of mind tonight then he needed help and he would have to hope that Rush wouldn't balk at his intrusion.
His hand closed upon the polished knob and turned it slowly so as not to cause too much noise. It seemed slightly ludicrous since he had every intention of waking the boy but manners were deeply ingrained into his personality.
He slowly stepped into the room and blinked as his eyes adjusted from the fire-lit halls to the completely dark room. A sudden noise caught his attention and he quickly identified it as having Rush's voice. Blue eyes turned to where he knew the bed to be even if he couldn't see it. The door was shut absent-mindedly behind him.
Was Rush having a nightmare of some sort?
His vision had adjusted enough so that he could see a body writhing on the bed though he still couldn't make much else out. Concern flooded through him and he quickly padded his way over to the bedside, intent on somehow comforting his other.
No sooner had he come up alongside the bed did David become very awake of two important factors. The first was that Rush didn't have any clothes on. At all. Blood rushed north and south at the same time when this fact dawned on the Marquis and he had to stifle a choked sound that had been looking to make its way into the world.
The second fact was that Rush was most certainly not lost in the grips of a nightmare. One hand was flitting about on the bedsheets and the other...was occupied with a more vulgar act. If it was at all possible for David to have any more blood rush to his face then it did. One finely carved hand brought itself up to lie across the left side of his face as he continued to watch the other boy.
"David..." Rush moaned and the Marquis felt his own body echo a strong response to the lusty call. He should leave...this was inappropriate in so many ways.
Wait...could people do this in their sleep? David didn't think so. Blue eyes widened significantly as he realized that Rush was not asleep but only to occupied with the task at hand (oh dear, that hadn't been the way for him to think that) to notice that he had an audience. He needed to get out of the room very quickly before Rush opened his eyes and saw him.
'He'll think I'm a pervert.' David lamented in his mind. He took a careful step backwards from the bed and began to inch his way towards the door with care. He had almost made it when he backed up into the desk (he knew it was there, this is what he got for watching Rush and not his step) that Rush kept for whenever he needed to write something.
He managed to stay silent but something toppled off the top of the desk and made an incredible shattering sound when it hit the floor. The ink pot, David would later discover.
He couldn't be bothered to actually look at the moment because Rush's eyes had snapped open at the sound and were currently locked with his.